


Wood, Ink and Iridescent Beetle Wings

by Blue_Daddys_Girl



Series: Collected Kifus [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Art Enthusiast Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Brotherly Love, Bugs & Insects, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Gift Giving, Hobbies, Older Brother Thrawn, POV Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Pre-Chaos Rising, Printing, Short One Shot, They're not Mitth yet but Kivu, Thrass needs a hug, Thrawn and Thrass as kids, Thrawn and Thrass' mother, Thrawn being a good brother, woodcut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29217579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Daddys_Girl/pseuds/Blue_Daddys_Girl
Summary: Vurawn thinks of ways to be a better older brother and sooth Vurass' feelings after he's been forced to part with his most precious catch.Or how the brothers always have each other's back, even when their hobbies backfire on them.Written on the prompt of "Hobbies"
Relationships: Thrass | Mitth'ras'safis & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Series: Collected Kifus [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145555
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11
Collections: High Council Bounty 2/21





	Wood, Ink and Iridescent Beetle Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ILoveDragonsALot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILoveDragonsALot/gifts).



Kivu'raw'nuru pushed his gouge into the soft wood, carefully working curves through the grain so as not to split it, whittling away, one stroke at a time, brushing off the wood chips with a flick of his fingers.  
He thought as he worked. That was one thing he really liked about woodcut. Once he had the design firmly in his mind's eye and the basic shapes drawn on the block, he could let his hands get to work. He entered a state of flow, where the physical activity became almost automatic, like a meditative exercise, leaving his mind free to roam.  
And Vurawn had plenty to think about.

He thought of his mother's voice breaking as she screamed in fright, of Vurass holding on to his tears until they were alone in their room that night.

'It's not your fault,' he had said. 'It's so many things that happened... Mom snapped, but it's not your fault.'

'But I'm the one who took it out of the box,' Vurass had said between sobs, 'and now I'll have to let it go!'

'No it's nothing you did, just... Mom is tired... And scared of bugs.'

Vurawn had tried to explain. He had listed all the things he knew, all the facts, the hints, the shreds of conversations and glimpses of scenes that coalesced in his mind to form a logical string of events. But Vurass didn't follow. He couldn't see what their father's death or the rectorate's push for their advancement to a higher academy, or the Kivu's lack of wealth had to do with their mom wanting him to release his prize beetle in the morning.

'It's not a cause and effect thing,' Vurawn had said, struggling to explain his reasoning. 'It's many circumstances coming together that made it the worst time for this to happen, but it's no one's fault.'

Well, if it was anyone's fault it was the beetle's.

It was a huge and beautiful thing. Bigger than Vurass' hands, bigger even than Vurawn's. Light coruscated on its carapace in myriads of scintillating colours.  
It had been Vurass' rarest and most precious catch so far: an aptly named iridescent orb beetle he'd caught in the tundra outside of town.

Their mother had nodded along as Vurass expounded on all the details of orb beetle life and anatomical properties, taking the beast from Vurawn's hands and twirling it for mother to better see as he pointed to the feathery antennae, the four compound eyes, the gleaming mandibles...  
And then the orb beetle had opened its iridescent outer wings and unfolded the diaphanous ones hidden beneath, and before anyone could react, it had taken flight and smacked itself right in their mother's face.

Things had not gone well from there, and on the next day the three of them had driven out of town so that a stone-face Vurass could release his prized pet into the wild.

Vurawn sighed, sitting back and surveying his work. He felt like he'd failed his brother somehow. Failed to explain, or at least to make things easier. He wanted to fix that somehow and since words were of no help, he'd turned to the other way he best expressed himself.  
He picked up the wood plate and blew on it before setting it down and going back to work. It wasn't big. The entire design was just larger than his hand. He'd be finished soon.  
He turned the plate around, careful to keep the hand that pressed it down to the table _behind_ the one that wielded the gouge. He had learned about that the hard way, in another great example of Vurass being wasted as a younger brother.

When Vurawn's hand had slipped and the sharp metal had slashed deep in his finger instead of wood, it was Vurass who'd gone and fetched the first aid kit.  
Vurawn had just stood there in shock, watching the blood ooze while he processed how he could have failed on such a basic level. Vurass had bandaged his finger, and called their mother, and shaken him out of his torpor.

Yes, Vurass would make a great older brother.

Vurawn brushed the plate, satisfied, and tidied his desk before bringing out his printing tools. He only had the standard black printing ink, so he'd planned to paint on top of the finished print. He worked a blob of stiff ink on his small hotplate, working it until it was pliant, enjoying the way the chemical scent that rose from it changed as it warmed. He coated a roller and carefully applied the ink to the wood.  
He smirked, satisfied already with the look of it. Printing was always the most exciting stage. It was rewarding to see his efforts pay off and the work come together. Vurawn went to fetch the paper cuts he'd prepared, applied one down to the inked wood plate, and using a handpress he'd made himself, rubbed the paper down to make the impression.  
He peeled it off carefully, revealing the dark outlines of an iridescent orb beetle, etched from his memory, ready to be filled with colour.

It wouldn't be the same, but if it made Vurass smile, it would be a good start.


End file.
